


Monster Handler

by Lost_Elf



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Collars, Dom Rhys (Borderlands), Dom/sub, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Safe Sane and Consensual, Smut, Subspace, brief daddy kink, no beta we die like men, sub Handsome Jack, tho Rhys has a few introspective moments and I couldn't resist adding a little plot twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24552847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: Rhys is a professional Dom and Jack is... well, a very needy and very dangerous customer.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	Monster Handler

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sinbirdy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinbirdy/gifts).



> A gift to Sinbirdy for being a bad influence on me. ^.^
> 
> I have no idea how did I manage to write this. Bottom Jack is ways outside of my comfort zone. But I like a challenge, I guess. For someone who doesn't enjoy this dynamic, I think I nailed it. In my own way. Also, please ignore the ending, I was just indulging myself. ^.^"
> 
> How do I name fics? T.T

“And one guy, now you won’t believe it, one guy in HR actually tried to bring up a complaint against _me_. But hold on, it gets better, because it was about a suspected _sexual assault_. Do I look like a guy who would assault his own secretary?”

“Yes, Jack,” Rhys hums, continuing his work. He knows Jack doesn’t care about his responses, just needing to rant. On some days, he just answers some random words, like _superstitious_ , _benevolent_ , _pineapple_ , and the CEO doesn’t even notice.

“Yeah, I know, I know! So, I told the guy to fuck off, and he did, because I’m the scary CEO, but then why did he bother even trying? Do you, do you understand that?”

This time, Rhys doesn’t bother answering. Instead, he snaps his fingers, gesturing towards the bed in the back of the room. “Up,” he says, still fiddling with the thing he had been working on for at least ten minutes now. Everything is tangled up and knotted, and he would probably save himself some sanity by throwing it away and buying a new set, but he really wanted to use this today.

“…And you know who Jerkins from R&D is, I told you about him. So, Jerkins…”

Realising that Jack took up somewhere else in his speech without either of them commenting on it, Rhys hides a chuckle behind a cough. He smirks when he hears Jack shut up for a second, as if waiting to hear anything he says, but when nothing comes, he continues droning on.

When the CEO makes the briefest pause to breathe in, Rhys pipes in. “On your back.” He doesn’t even need to raise his voice or put some hardness into it; Jack does it right away.

“So, only ten people died by my hand today, which is good for a Friday. Or, well, my gun. Or my airlock. But then this guy from the Board, the one whose name I still don’t remember, the, uhm, the new one…”

“McKelly?” Rhys supplies, finally untangling the last knot.

“Yeah, that one, thanks! So, McKillingan told me I kill too many people, and I should stop. He even suggested that I’m a psychopath. So yeah, he is in the Intensive Care Unit, now. And now I feel like a dick, because it looks like I started strangling him out of spite, but I actually did it because he said under his breath that any filthy bandit from Pandora could take down a violent asshole like me, and he’ll show me. Turns out he didn’t mean it like a threat, but how could I know?! They _always_ try to murder me!”

Thinking that Jack is getting too worked up, Rhys decides to begin their session. “Hands up, legs spread,” he orders, bringing as much equipment to the bed in one go as he can. It falls on the mattress in a heap, and Rhys’ heart stops for a second when he realises that the delicate chain might get tangled up again, and he would spend another ten minutes putting it in order. Fortunately, it doesn’t.

When Rhys looks up, he sees Jack already in position. He shut up and is waiting for more instructions patiently. It shouldn’t shock him to see that, given the number of times he had seen the CEO go soft and pliant on command in the past.

While Rhys puts leather cuffs on Jack’s ankles and uses them to tie his legs to the bed posts, the submissive watches him with curious eyes. Jack always looks as if it was his first time with a Dom.

“Arms spread too, the same way,” Rhys tells him, just to occupy his mind while he finishes up the work on his legs.

“Like this?” Jack asks tentatively, quietly. Rhys is glad that he is facing mostly away from him at that moment, because he can’t stop a small smile. Jack is fishing for praise blatantly.

When he gets his facial expressions under control, Rhys looks up. “Yes, Jack. Exactly like that,” he says, indulging him. If Jack were a brat to him even once, he wouldn’t fall for this trick ever, but the CEO of Hyperion was unlike any other of his customers.

When Jack’s arms are tied too, Rhys takes a step back. He calls it _admiring the prey_. Rhys is not one to be humble about his accomplishments. Being hired by the most powerful man in the world is something.

“How do the bonds feel?” he asks, again, giving Jack’s head something to think about. He lets himself stare at the bound man for a while longer. Jack is not sporting a six-pack anymore, nor is he as ideal as the posters portray him. His chest is covered in scars and stomach is soft, a little pudgy. He is attractive, though. _Handsome_.

“Good,” Jack answers. “Not too tight.”

“Good,” Rhys repeats, forcing himself to stop staring. This is a job. No time to crush.

“How do _you_ feel?” Rhys asks next, stepping closer. Jack watches his every move, and Rhys lets himself be watched. He always puts on the best clothes for Jack, tight pants and dark dress shirts, looking like the perfect young Dom. “We’ll be doing a _lot_ today. Will you be good?”

“I’m—” Jack stops himself, frowning a little. He swallows with a gulp, and Rhys is sure the words he just pushed down were _I’m always good_. “I’ll be good,” he promises. The expression on his face couldn’t be described as anything but puppy eyes. He gets an appreciative pat on the thigh as a reward.

“We’ll start unusually,” Rhys declares, stepping away. He rummages in the heap of things for a while and then holds up a collar. “Normally, you would have to deserve this. I’ll go ahead and give it to you now.”

Jack told him many times that he could stop being so careful, that he doesn’t need warnings and guide, but Rhys won’t change the pace for him concerning this. This is one of the few things he insists on. Jack gets unpredictable when he doesn’t know what’s coming for him, and Rhys would like to survive this job. As much as a thrill and an honour, having sessions with _the_ Handsome Jack is also a great risk.

As soon as Jack hums a sound of understanding, Rhys slips the collar under his head and fastens it on his neck. It is a simple black leather piece with a loop on the front. It is not the design what makes Jack shiver and sink further into the mattress, but the implications. Rhys had trained all his regular customers to know that a collar is a reward, that being marked by Rhys like that is something reserved only for the most well-behaved.

Carefully, Rhys takes the long thin chain he spent so much time untangling and slips it through the loop. A nipple clamp goes on each end of the chain. When they are on, Jack won’t be able to move his head without feeling a tug on his nipples.

“Gonna put these on, now,” Rhys says, giving Jack a second to prepare himself. The sub groans when both are clasped on his nipples, testing the tug by rolling his head.

Next comes a blindfold. Jack lays still and waits when it is put on. Rhys smirks freely, no longer needing to keep an attitude.

“Breathe in, Jack,” he says sweetly, watching the realisation hit the older man and then the order being obeyed. He waits for a second. “Out.”

With each big inhale, the clamps move on Jack’s chest. With each exhale, there is a pause where he has to wait for Rhys to allow him to breathe in again. Or, well, he doesn’t _have to_ wait. But he does. Chooses to. Just as he chooses to have his nipples tormented by little tugs.

It is always easy to put Handsome Jack into subspace, but Rhys wonders anyway. When the CEO’s body relaxes and begins to show signs of being out of it, the Dom has to do a double take. In his estimations, he gave this a sixty percent chance to work.

“That’s it, Jack,” he praises in a low voice. “Let me take care of you. You don’t need to think about anything now. Just breathe.”

There is a sharp knife always at hand where ropes are involved, and Rhys reaches for it and uses it to cut Jack’s underwear off of him. It is an unspoken rule that Jack comes into the playroom already mostly undressed, and whatever is left on him can be damaged. Rhys likes to do damage.

“I forgot to ask,” he muses, keeping his voice on a calm level that won’t startle Jack too much. “Did you prepare yourself for me?”

There is a long pause before Jack makes a sound of denial. Rhys can only imagine his thoughts being slow and any movement feeling like too much work. He is planning on keeping Jack in that state for the whole session, liking him when he is calm. He is also more vulnerable, though, and the Dom needs to be extra careful.

“That’s alright; I’ll help you,” he promises.

If you can say that a knife is always at hand, then lube is always at both hands, on the closest shelf and under a pillow. Literally. There are bottles and packs of lube hidden everywhere, because nothing breaks immersion as much as fumbling to get lube from a drawer on the other side of the room. Well, that’s Rhys’ opinion, anyway.

He reaches under a pillow for a bottle and then climbs on the bed to sit between Jack’s legs. He pulls him a little down on the bed by his hips, putting more strain on his arms and shoulders but less on his legs. “Spread your legs for me, Jack,” he orders, and he is met with immediate obedience. “Good boy.”

Rhys hadn’t been in this profession as long as some other Doms, but he was better than most. Maybe it was talent, maybe all the articles he read, maybe practice, but he was _good_. His pride was knowing exactly what anyone needed. Jack just needed to be a good boy, and the rest of the program was usually for Rhys’ own amusement. If some small voice in his head told him that by doing this he is somehow pro-genocide, and he drowned the voice in an ocean of the high he got when domming Handsome Jack, well… Those were thoughts for his late-night introspective sessions.

Jack’s breath caught when a slick finger traced the sensitive skin of his ass, spreading lubricant and teasing. It brought the Dom out of his musings and he listened and watched carefully for signs that Jack is growing too impatient or too unsure. Then, he pushed one finger in, _all the way_ in.

The sub hissed and tensed up and relaxed, all in the span of two seconds. Rhys waited for Jack to get used to the intrusion and started moving the finger in and out. He carried on in that pace, teasing Jack on one level until he could barely stand it anymore and then suddenly levelling up, adding another finger or another movement. He watched Jack’s reactions carefully, especially his dick, that was half-hard and looked inviting. Rhys shook his head, resisting the urge to take Jack in his mouth. That motion was reserved for his clients as a huge reward, and his occasional, very rare desire to bottom or sub for someone couldn’t change that.

Rhys didn’t let Jack wait long when he pulled out his fingers and wiped them clean on the sub’s stomach (he was surprised to find Jack liked to get dirty, but it was easy to indulge him), already pushing the head of his cock in. The submissive sighed, breathing just a little bit quicker than normal but evenly.

Reaching for the nipple clamps and undoing them, Rhys spoke up in as low voice as he could muster. “I want to fuck you long and slow, Jack. Would you like that?”

Jack answered immediately, a little too aware of himself but clearly mostly out of his head as he said, a little slurred: “Anything, sir.”

“Such a good boy,” Rhys hummed, rocking his hips slowly. He pulled the delicate chain out of the collar loop, frowning when Jack tensed up. He almost pulled back, an alarm going off in his head telling him that something is wrong, and he should see to what is making the sub uncomfortable, but when his hand dropped lower, to Jack’s chest, he relaxed again. “Oh,” he said as he realised what was the problem. “Don’t worry about that, baby,” he assured Jack as he kissed his throat just above the collar. “You want to keep it, right?”

Jack nodded too fast, and Rhys almost didn’t move his head away in time to avoid being hit in the forehead by the sub’s chin. “Yes, Da—! Ah, I m-mean, I, I…” Jack babbled, too frantic, almost slipping to panic.

The thin line between subspace and a drop was one Rhys didn’t enjoy toying with. “Shh, I know,” he murmured while wrecking his brain over whatever Jack could be trying to say. “You deserve it, right?” he guessed, sounding more sure of himself than he was.

“I…” Jack paused, still unsure of how thin was the ice he is stepping on. “I do,” he said, finally. “I, I was good.”

Rhys rewarded him with another kiss on the throat, just where Jack liked it the most, showing him the ice is a few meters thick and safe. “Yes, Jack. You are being very good today.”

 _Needy_. That was the perfect word for describing Jack as a submissive. Not a brat, not a tease, not a pet, not a little one. Just a needy person starved for positive attention and someone’s approval.

Focusing on the movements of his cock inside of Jack for a while, Rhys buried himself to the hilt, waiting until the bottom got used to him. He isn’t the most endowed man out there, but anything is big when it’s being forced in someone’s ass.

“Look at you,” he murmured, kissing up Jack’s neck. “Taking it so well.” He felt Jack leaning to the side a little, could almost read his thoughts. He pulled out a little and thrust back into him at the same time as their lips connected, and Rhys would swear Jack sunk into the mattress with the force of dropping back into subspace as Rhys gave him everything he wanted.

“Doing good down there?” he asked, knowing he won’t get a response. He set a slow pace, not really getting anything out of the movement besides the look on Jack’s face – serene and, honestly, blissed out. Sometimes, Rhys wished he could get into that mind setting so easily too.

He kept it up for maybe ten minutes, setting the pace but mainly keeping it too slow for Jack to make him come. Again, he only does that until Jack is letting out soft moans and little confused sounds, as if he didn’t know what is missing. Then, Rhys suddenly sped up.

Jack shouted – it could maybe be called a scream – and arched of the bed, but he was so close to an orgasm that he didn’t have the brainpower to complain, even if he wanted to. Rhys knew exactly what to do to tip him over the edge, thrusting right into his sweet spot over and over while whispering praise into his ear.

Coming untouched was not something Jack was proud of, as Rhys learned the hard way. Jack always resisted until the last second, as if protecting some sort of pride or dignity that he didn’t drop while entering the playroom. He gritted his teeth, peering at Rhys through his lashes questioningly, and the Dom held his gaze intently, seeing the exact moment when the pleasure turned out to be too much and Jack subdued to it, his eyes glazing over and becoming unfocused and lips slack.

After fucking Jack through his orgasm, Rhys considered his own pleasure. Fucking Jack any longer would drive him to overstimulation, so he pulled out carefully, taking the minute while the sub panted to reach for one of the warm wet towels he kept on the room’s heater and cleaned himself off the lube. He threw it on the floor, then, and returned to the bed.

“Ready to show Daddy some love?” he asks, kneeling next to Jack’s chest. He taps the side of his face when he doesn’t get a response, trying to get his attention, and repeats the question.

Jack nods, and so Rhys throws one leg over his chest, straddling him. Jack’s mouth falls wide open without prompting. How long would Rhys escape being air-locked without a blindfold hiding his smug smirks from Jack, that is a question he doesn’t want answered. He grins freely, enjoying his power trip.

He toys with the sub for a second, resting the tip of his dick on his lips and not moving. Jack’s tongue tentatively flickers forward, tasting boundaries. When he touches, Rhys moves away, and Jack, being a fast learner, doesn’t try it again.

After all the playing they already did, Rhys isn’t patient enough to be mean, and so he pushes his cock as far as he can before Jack gags. He pulls out, letting him take a breath, and then pushes in again. This time, Jack doesn’t gag, easily taking all of him and moaning when his throat is forced open.

Rhys swallows a comment about Jack being a cockwhore at the last second, getting too distracted. “So good for me,” he says instead. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth now.” Fucking Handsome Jack’s throat. That is what Rhys calls power, and power is what makes him release too soon for his liking, but Jack is drooling and moaning, and he can’t hold back when watching that show.

“Okay,” he says, a little winded as he pulls away from Jack, mindlessly spreading saliva over his face with a finger. “Let’s move on! Night’s just begun, and we have so much fun planned…”

* * *

Occasionally, Rhys wonders if maybe this will be the day when Jack comes up from subspace and realises that the professional Dom knows too much, deciding to kill him. He is only afraid a little when these thoughts attack him, though. Seeing Jack be pliant and obedient before and during a session is enough to lull him into a sense of safety, so he is not startled when Jack begins to speak in a hard, gruff voice, clearing his throat every once in a while to get rid of any traces in his voice from having his throat fucked, or screaming.

“I’m gonna take the collar off,” Rhys says simply before doing it. Jack tilts his head to help him reach the back of the thing. The sub reaches for his neck immediately, rubbing at any soreness, and Rhys stops his hand automatically to inspect the damage himself.

Jack’s eyes snap up and meet his own, and there is a moment of stillness in the room before they both relax. The CEO drops his arms and lets the Dom inspect the red ring of skin, deeming it irritated. They have a perfect soothing crème for that, and Rhys fights to keep his fingers steady as he applies it.

Jack asks for water and asks for dark chocolate, and Rhys knows that this time he escaped both dying and… the _worse_ thing. Jack already stopped shaking, and also stopped letting Rhys baby him. The Dom usually manages to fit enough of that in the twenty minutes it takes Jack to fully come up after a scene, while he is still trembling and clutching to him, and if he even speaks up, then only to fish for more praise and compliments. Even after a session like this, when bringing Jack up after hours spent floating takes longer, he goes back to his normal self in a couple minutes after standing up for the first time.

They always take a shower together. Rhys doesn’t really remember how that became a thing, but it is _a thing_ , and he is glad that he doesn’t need anything more for an excuse. He helps Jack wash away any filth from the scene and brings up any mark they left behind that the CEO will have to be covering in the oncoming days, and he lets Jack wash him too. It is not something he does with anybody else, but if it helps the CEO be alright with this part of his life, then he won’t question it. Just like he doesn’t question _the worse thing_.

Handsome Jack always shakes his hand when leaving, reminding him that the payment will be on his account by the end of the next workday, or he can look out of a window and look for Jack’s secretary in the outer space. His grip is strong, and Rhys is glad that his cybernetic hand can’t tremble (unless it’s malfunctioning) as he braces himself for the inevitable.

“Got any plans on Sunday, or can I take you out?” Jack asks in a way any other person would ask, not like the CEO of a megacorporation he is.

And Rhys accepts, making one of the jokes he always makes. Something about no strings attached or no ties being made, or maybe the one about boundaries, or being free-of-charge. Jack laughs, in a non-maniacal, care-free way, and reminds him that their relationship is purely professional.

Even on days when their sessions happen early into the day, Rhys is ready to go to bed and sleep for ten hours right after Jack leaves. A heavy weight is lifted from his shoulders, allowing him to breathe. The bad, _bad_ thing didn’t happen this time. And yeah, he isn’t dead, either.

He leaves the clean-up for future-Rhys and leaves, turning off the lights with his ECHOeye and locking the door with his cybernetic hand. The walk to his apartment is short, and he doesn’t even bother turning the lights on, just walking to his room and dropping clothes on the way. Somewhere behind him, Vaughn shouts a concerned question.

“Not this time,” he calls back before kicking his door shut. “But almost!” he adds. Then, he faceplants the bed, making sure not to look at any of the posters on his walls, as they always lose their appeal after a session with the real deal of the CEO.

Next time, _the worst thing_ probably will happen. It happens more and more often – every time Jack looks up at him blearily, his face brightening when he sees the Dom; every time Jack moans his name instead of _sir_ or _Daddy_ ; every time Jack suggests a session at his penthouse, not the playroom; every time he gets a kiss outside of a scene, one that gets blamed on some leftover emotions from the subspace; and especially every time there is a gift in golden wrapping paper left at his doorstep, one that isn’t a toy meant for him or Jack but an actual well-meant gif, or even a bouquet of flowers.

Rhys groans, long, letting the sound morph into a scream of frustration. He thinks he can hear Vaughn say something like _me too, bro_ in the other room, but that might be his imagination. But Handsome Jack’s interest in him isn’t. On some days, he fears Jack had developed feelings for him based on their chats over lunch and their kinky fucks.

A client falling in love with him is manageable, as Rhys proved in the past by moving away from Zahara and escaping the creepy owner that liked his sessions a little too much, but escaping the CEO of Hyperion would not be as easy. Especially concerning Helios’ security, the cost of shuttle tickets, the records such purchase would leave behind, and the trackers probably built in Rhys’ cybernetics.

“Fuuuuuck,” Rhys groans.

“Yes, you are!” comes from the other room, and Rhys throws his pillow on the door. He doesn’t need to be reminded. He is well and truly fucked, the object of Handsome Jack’s interest, and as much as this man is his crush, Rhys isn’t willing to try dating him. It will forever be a dream. But forever might be cut short if Rhys doesn’t figure out how to gently rebuff the CEO.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElfWriting).


End file.
